Chapter 30 #2
“Yeah. Everyone was running around trying to find out where the voices were coming from.” His expression darkened slightly.
“Then I spotted the killer again. This time he was with Noura and Maren. I was too late to save them, but not too late to stop him. I attacked him, knocked him unconscious, ripped off the mask…”
“And you saw Zach.”
“Yup.” He rubbed his jaw. “I was going to drag him to the assembly hall and tell everyone that I finally got the killer—and that I was still alive—but then I realized there was a major problem.”
My brows rose. “What?”
“I had no idea when the cops would show up, because we still had no signal and couldn’t call anyone. And everyone was still terrified. So if I dumped Zach in front of the group and told them he was the killer, there was a good chance they would’ve beaten him to death on the spot.”
“Like a mob mentality sort of thing.”
“Yeah. And as much as I fucking hated the guy for what he'd done, I knew we'd never get answers from him if that happened. So I tied him up and brought him to the cabin.”
I nodded slowly. “Right.”
“When he woke up, I forced him to tell me how to restore the signal so we could finally call the police.” Rhys leaned back slightly. “He agreed. But in exchange, he asked for one thing.”
“What?”
“He wanted us to film his confession. Said he wanted the truth told in his own words, instead of being twisted around later by cops, reporters, or lawyers. We figured it couldn’t hurt, so we did it.”
I folded my arms tighter. “Then what?”
“When it was over, he asked to use the bathroom. I had to untie him for that, obviously, and that’s when I realized I’d missed something.
” His mouth flattened slightly. “He had a pistol hidden in his waistband. And the second he saw an opportunity to get away with everything after all, he tried to shoot his way out. He missed, thankfully, and I managed to wrestle the gun away from him. Then I shot him. Self-defense.”
Silence settled over the cabin while I mentally picked apart the story.
“It sounds pretty solid on the surface,” I finally said. “But there’s one glaring hole.”
“What?”
I threw my hands up. “How exactly are you going to get Zach to confess on camera to all these murders he didn’t commit?” I asked. “He’s not an idiot. If he thinks you’re just going to kill him afterward, he’ll never cooperate.”
A slow smile spread across Rhys’s face. “We’ll have to use a bit of reverse psychology on him,” he said. “Make him think that keeping him alive benefits us much more than killing him does, because it helps us sell the story better.”
“And you really think he’ll buy that?”
“I know he will. I already have the entire conversation mapped out in my head,” he said, tapping lightly against his temple. “Every answer. Every reassurance. Every pressure point.” His eyes locked onto mine. “All you have to do is back me up. Play along with whatever I say.”
“Right,” I murmured, though my thoughts were still spinning. Then another issue occurred to me. “Wait. What about the alibi problem?”
Rhys tilted his head slightly. “What alibi problem?”
“When Sloane and Reid died, everyone else technically had an alibi for that stretch of time, including Zach.” I narrowed my eyes. “You were the only person without one.”
Rhys dismissed that with a lazy wave of his hand.
“That won’t matter. The people who vouched for Zach are dead now, and nobody knows the exact time Sloane and Reid were killed anyway,” he said.
“Also, by the time the survivors are interviewed, everyone’s memories will be scrambled or faded.
People will convince themselves Zach had opportunities they never actually saw. ”
“That’s… probably true,” I said grudgingly.
He lifted a brow. “Do you see any other holes?”
I hesitated. “Not exactly a hole. More of a question.”
“Go on.”
“You butchered most of the others,” I said. “But with Zach, you’re planning to shoot him, and I’m assuming you’ll put the bullet in his head to make sure he’s dead. Right?”
“Yes.”
“So why does he get an easier death than everyone else?” I asked. “Not that I’m advocating for torture here. I’m just saying, it feels inconsistent with the rest.”
For the first time in a while, Rhys’s expression softened slightly. “You’re right,” he said. “He is getting off easier.”
“Why?”
“Because out of all of them, Zach was the only one who felt guilty about Carly. Not guilty enough to confess in the end, obviously. But he still felt something.”
“So a quick, painless death is his reward?”
“Something like that.” A faint smile touched Rhys’s mouth. “Besides, he’s not getting off too easy, is he? He’ll still go down in history as the Blackpine Butcher.”
“That’s the nickname you’ve given yourself, huh?” I asked, raising a brow.
His smirk returned immediately. “I think it has a nice ring to it.”
I ignored that and leaned back. “You know, after this is all over, there’ll probably be a few people who laud the killer as a fucked-up folk hero,” I said. “Like a twisted version of Robin Hood. Killing rich murderers to avenge their poor victims.”
Rhys tilted his head again. “Are you one of those people?”
I didn’t answer. Just stared down at the blanket and twisted it in my hands while silence stretched between us.
He finally moved a little closer. “If you help me sell this story, we can both walk away free and clear.”
“Apart from the bit where I’m an accessory to a spree killer,” I muttered.
“That’s exactly why you’ll stay free,” he replied. “Because you’ll never be able to breathe a word about it to anyone. Which means I’ll finally be able to trust you enough to let you go.”
I looked back up at him. “And if I refuse?”
For the first time since this conversation started, Rhys hesitated. “If you refuse,” he said slowly, “then you’ll have to tell the police the truth about everything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison.”
I searched his face. “But you’d never actually let that happen, would you?”
“I would.”
Disbelief flashed through me. “You’d seriously let me tell the truth and destroy your entire life?”
Rhys held my gaze without flinching. “I always knew there was a chance this could end with me getting caught,” he said. “I don’t want that outcome, obviously. But I accepted the possibility a long time ago. So if that’s what you want, then that’s what has to happen. It’s the only other option.”
“That’s not true. There’s another option,” I said, quieter this time, as though lowering my voice could somehow soften what I was about to say.
Rhys’s expression shifted, the crease between his brows deepening. “If you’re about to suggest I disappear and spend the rest of my life on the run, that’s not realistic. I’d get caught eventually.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, shaking my head. “I meant… you could kill me. Then you’re free to pin everything on Zach, and no one would ever question your story.”
For a moment, nothing moved between us except the slow rise and fall of his chest. Then his hand came up, closing around my chin, not rough enough to hurt but firm enough that I had no choice but to meet his eyes properly.
“I need you to understand something, Alissa,” he said in a low voice. “That was never an option. Not once. Not for a second.”
My pulse picked up, hammering hard enough that I could feel it in my throat. I swallowed once, then again, trying to steady myself enough to speak.
“How long do I have to decide?” I finally asked.
His gaze flicked briefly toward the bathroom door where Zach lay out of sight. “We’ve probably got an hour or two before he wakes up,” he said. “But we won’t be able to film anything until morning when there’s actual light outside. So you’ve got the rest of the night.”
“Okay,” I murmured.
Rhys stayed there another second, eyes lingering on mine like he was trying to read something buried underneath my expression. Then he finally rose from the bed and stepped back.
“I’ll crash on the couch,” he said. “Give you some space to think.”
I nodded faintly.
For a moment it looked like he was going to say something else. Instead, he turned and crossed the cabin, and the sofa creaked as he lay down. After that, silence settled over the room again, broken only by the wind brushing against the outer walls and the occasional shift of old timber.
I lay down and stared at the ceiling, my thoughts spiraling so violently that I almost felt sick from it.
The right thing to do in this situation was incredibly obvious. Wait for the police, tell them the truth about everything, and let the system handle it. That was the answer any sane person would give.
Except… the last day had completely destroyed my faith in what ‘right’ or ‘sane’ looked like anymore.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and thought about Carly's family. How nobody with actual power had taken them seriously. How their daughter’s death had barely made a ripple outside the local area, because she wasn't the kind of victim the world would stop for.
I thought about what Rhys had said about powerful people absorbing exposure and walking away intact because they could afford to.
Then I thought about the sixteen Legacies standing on that dark lakeshore after the horrific act they’d committed, and I wondered how many of them would’ve actually faced real consequences if they’d been caught.